The log fire in the Wright household is now lit and anyone who leaves the back door open risks voices raised in recrimination. Time, I think, for something warming. Few alcoholic drinks are served hot for the straightforward reason that much of the all-important alcohol can evaporate – the angel's share, as the distillers call it, can be all of it. But one drink, or class of drinks, is by definition consumed this way – mulled cider, wine or ale.

Mulled drinks have a long history - Pepys talks of drinking "mulled sacke" (basically hot sherry) and I have recipes going back to the 17th century. Not that everyone approved. A rather dour epistle from the 18th century warned that mulled sacke and other beverages served hot would "debauch the palate and deprave the stomach" – and bring you out in spots as well.

It is odd how tastes change. My grandmother always seemed to have a sticky paper bag of "winter mixture" about her person. I would politely refuse offers to "have one of these to warm you up" having suffered, incredulously, their full horror at a tender age. Incidentally they are not as bad as "chocolate limes", but then nothing is.

Winter mixture can still be found but it has, thankfully, lost its earlier popularity. At least you could eat them if you tried really hard. Not so the old recipes for mulled cider and wine which have moved irretrievably away from the modern palate. They require, you will be horrified to hear, eggs. Lots of them.

Here is a toe-curling recipe from 1840: allow six eggs to a quart of cider. Put a handful of whole cloves into the cider, and boil it. While it is boiling, beat the eggs in a large pitcher; adding to them as much sugar as will make the cider very sweet. By the time the cider boils, the eggs will be sufficiently light. Pour the boiling liquor on the beaten egg, and continue to pour the mixture backwards and forwards from one pitcher to another, till it has a fine froth on it.

A similar recipe tells us that you should "pour it over toast" and that "It is considered very nourishing" – which it probably would be if you could keep it down long enough.

In our recipe we will be avoiding eggs at all cost but we will be using spices. It is a pity that the British countryside produces so few of these - black and white mustard, fennel, sweet cicely and juniper are the ones most commonly found, though it can be something of a minor miracle to find juniper berries. Sadly lacking is anything like cloves, ginger, nutmeg or cinnamon. If you have been making any of my recipes from the last few months you may, however, have the most important part – the booze. I will be using two of these recipes to make our mulled cider: cider (rather obviously) and sloe gin.

My first batch of cider was a little on the crisp side but this can be used to good effect in a mulled cider. The basic idea of making any mulled drink is to warm the liquor gently with spices. Which spices to use is up to you – nutmeg, star anise and vanilla can be used, though we're going to stick with tradition and use just cloves and cinnamon. Sugar or honey can be added to taste but because of the unusual addition of the very sweet sloe gin in this recipe, you probably won't need it.

Making mulled cider - in goes the sloe gin. Photograph: John Wright

A word of warning – the sloe gin makes this concoction powerful stuff, which is a "good thing" if you know it but not if you don't. Either drink in moderation or add plain apple juice during the cooking phase to bring the potency down to a more sensible level.

Mulled cider

Put the cider (and apple juice if using) into a saucepan with the spices and bring slowly to the boil with the lid on. As soon as it starts to simmer turn off the heat and add the sloe gin and the oranges. Taste and add honey or sugar if you want. Serve straight away by a log fire with the back door closed. It tastes just a little like those Winter Mixtures of Grandma's, but so much nicer.